


Domhnall and Oscar Go To White Castle

by wyomingnot



Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Tacos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyomingnot/pseuds/wyomingnot
Summary: No, they don't actually go to White Castle. But they are stoned and do pursue fast food.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Do I really need to say this is all made up? Probably. So. Yeah. Just my random imaginings.
> 
> edit to add - I ended up making a [moodboard](http://wyomingnot.tumblr.com/post/151561300220/nobody-tagged-me-but-i-couldnt-resist-the-idea) to go with this, for some reason. (link goes to my tumblr)

This isn't the first time Domhnall's been stoned. Hell, it's not even the first time he's been stoned with Oscar. But it is the first time he's been stoned with Oscar when there are tacos nearby.

Leaning back on the sofa after flicking the roach into the makeshift ashtray, he sets his chin on Oscar's shoulder and says, “We should go get tacos.”

Oscar pulls his head back a little and squints. “What?”

“I saw a taco shop around the corner earlier today when I was coming in.” It’s such a good idea; he can’t stop grinning.

“Seriously?” 

“I never joke about tacos. Do you know how many taco shops there are in Dublin?”

Oscar pulls out his phone. “Let's see...”

“Oh, fuck off. C'mon, let's go.” Domhnall trails his hand up Oscar's inseam. “I'll make it worth your while when we get back.”

Oscar grins and turns his head so he can see Domhnall's face. “I'm gonna hold you to that, man.”

They get up from the sofa, and Oscar grabs the keys for his rental car. Domhnall snatches them out of his hand and tosses them back on the table. “It’s a block away.” He looks down into Oscar’s eyes, hand on his chin. “And you are far too wasted to be driving.”

“Point.” Oscar nods and keeps on nodding as they leave the room.

The nodding continues most of the way there, but Domhnall doesn’t mind (much). Because they’re going to get tacos, and then go back to the room and shag. What’s to mind? Besides, Domhnall’s basically bouncing the whole way, so in terms of ridiculous behaviour...well.

The taco shop is mostly empty when they arrive, just a guy behind the counter. It’s a very simple restaurant, probably a renovated former fast food place. Doesn’t matter. There’s the menu on the wall above and behind the guy at the register. It’s not overly complicated, and Domhnall spots just what they need right away. He steps up to place the order, Oscar right behind him with his chin hooked over Domhnall’s shoulder..

“One party pack of tacos, please.”

“Is that for here or to-go?”

“To-go,” Domhnall and Oscar say. 

“That’ll be $19.74,” the guy at the register says, clearly amused. 

Domhnall pulls out his wallet and hands over the credit card at the front. The guy doesn’t take it.

“Sorry. No credit cards. Cash only.” He does actually look sorry.

“Shit.”

“Congratulations on finding the one place in town that doesn’t take plastic, man.” Oscar says, head tilted, grinning. And still hanging on Domhnall’s shoulder. 

Domhnall ducks out from under Oscar to face him. “You got any cash?”

“Man, I don’t even have my wallet. You threw me off when you took my keys and dragged me out of the room.”

“Shit.” He looks into his wallet, as if dollars might have magically appeared in the last minute. When he travels, he just uses his credit card because it’s easier than currency exchange all the time and ending up with bits and bobs of money he can’t use at home. But maybe there’s a solution here. He pulls a bill out and turns back around to the taco guy. He holds it up. “I’ll give you a hundred euros for the tacos. Can you do that?”

The guy is shaking his head. Another taco guy has come up to the register from the back. He looks between the register showing the total and the hundred euro note Domhnall’s holding up. He pulls out his phone and pokes it for a minute. Shows it to the first guy. “Dude. That’s like over a hundred bucks!”

A short discussion ensues between kitchen guy and register guy. There is eye rolling and arm waving and general ridiculousness. In the end, kitchen guy pulls a twenty out of his wallet and shows it to Domhnall. “How about we trade?”

Half an hour later, they’re back in Oscar’s room, and Domhnall’s scarfing tacos like he didn’t eat three of them on the walk back to the hotel. As they are not complete barbarians, they eat at the table. Oscar eats a few at a more leisurely pace than Domhnall before getting up and resettling himself on the sofa. He turns on the television and flips through the sadly limited selection of channels.

There is, of course, nothing on. He leaves it on the Weather Channel while he watches Domhnall finish off the last of the food. 

“I can feel your eyes on the back of my head, you know,” Domhnall says around the last bite of taco. 

“Obviously not, because I’m looking at your ass.”

Domhnall turns and gives Oscar a withering look. He’s always enjoyed Oscar’s sense of humor. It makes this thing they’ve got easy. They have fun. They fuck. Simple. He turns back and stuffs all the taco wrappers and detritus into the carry bag and smashes that into a compact ball. He momentarily considers throwing it at Oscar’s head but tosses it into the trash instead.

“Would you care for a closer look then?” Domhnall asks as he stands up from the chair and starts walking to the sofa.

“That’s not supposed to be a sexy walk, is it?”

“Pfft. No. Just walking.” It was meant to be enticing. Not that he’ll ever admit it now. The room isn’t particularly big, so he’s done walking by the time he finishes talking. 

Oscar’s leering at him from his slouch on the sofa. It’s a frankly ridiculous look, but given his own frankly ridiculous attempt at a seductive strut, he’s not going to say anything. It’s time to stop talking, actually. He lowers himself down to the sofa, straddling Oscar’s lap. He leans in, hands settling on the back of the sofa to either side of Oscar’s head while Oscar’s hands settle on Domhnall’s ass. 

“Close enough?” Domhnall asks.

“I can’t actually see your ass from here.”

“Would you rather I move away?”

“No. No. This is fine.” Oscar squeezes tightly and pulls Domhnall more firmly into his lap. 

The first kiss is rather more forceful than intended when both of them have the same idea and lean in at the same time. The next few kisses are more tentative while they work out the position. 

Domhnall pauses after a few minutes. He scritches along their chins where their beards are mingling. “It’s a bit different with two beards. Who knew?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Shut up. And before you can make another smart remark, yes I’m going to make you.” He goes back to kissing Oscar, taking care that their beards rub together as much as possible. After all, beard burn won’t show under a beard. This means more kissing. Always a good thing.

Their position on the sofa is great for the kissing but not for much else. Domhnall’s just about to suggest moving sideways when Oscar pulls back, grasping Domhnall’s hips and ass tighter to himself as he shifts on the sofa. “Hold on,” he says.

“What?”

“I said to hold on. Arms around my neck. I want to try something,” Oscar explains.

Domhnall does as he’s told and wraps his arms around Oscar’s neck. He’s taken completely by surprise when Oscar leans forward and suddenly stands up. Domhnall quickly wraps his legs around Oscar and grasps his neck tighter. He emphatically does not yelp. There’s a short wobbly moment when Domhnall’s not sure they’re both going to collapse gracelessly back to the sofa, but then everything steadies and Oscar walks them over to the bed. He gently tips Domhnall onto the mattress, crawling up over him.

“Okay—” Domhnall grins. “That was fucking hot.”

“Nice to know all that weightlifting is paying off.” Oscar grins back.

They scootch up a bit so nobody’s hanging off the side. Oscar sits up, knees straddling Domhnall’s hips, and whips off his t-shirt. Domhnall tries to follow, but his abs are not up the task of sitting up with someone essentially sitting on his hips, and pulling off a shirt is hard when you’re lying on it. Oscar’s quick to help, grabbing the hem of Domhnall’s shirt and skimming his hands up his sides. He yanks it the rest of the way off and tosses it aside.

Oscar scratches lightly at Domhnall’s beard before trailing his hand down. “You are so white, man.”

The light touch down his chest has him entranced, and while the words themselves might sound like an insult, they way they’re said doesn’t. Domhnall’s reply is dry, but without bite. “Gee, thanks.”

“No. You know I don’t mean it like that.” Oscar’s hand finally reaches Domhnall’s jeans, and he stops talking to wrestle the fly open. “I think it’s amazing,” he says once the fly is open. He pulls out Domhnall’s half-hard cock and adds, “This is pretty amazing too.”

Domhnall’s glad that Oscar’s wearing sweats; he’s not ready to let go of Oscar’s hand, and there’s no way he’d be able to get a fly open one-handed with his left hand. Pulling an elastic waistband down to get at a cock is easy, and Domhnall has Oscar’s out in a flash. 

Oscar looming over him is a nice change from Domhnall towering over him the rest of the time. They’re always mixing things up, but this is probably Domhnall’s favorite place. He tries to pick up the pace a little, and Oscar responds by taking both cocks in hand and continuing the easy pace.

It’s all quite good, but it’s not quite enough. Domhnall is considering trying to roll them over, get on top, take control, when Oscar asks, “Can I fuck you?” 

That’s unexpected, and apparently just what he needs. Domhnall gasps, and then he’s coming. “Shit. Fuck. Sorry,” is followed by garbled nonsense as his hips jerk and his cock spurts out stripes of come over his stomach and Oscar’s hand, which keeps stroking, slowing down as the spasms subside. Domhnall throws an arm over his eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says again. If he weren’t already pink from exertion, he’d be blushing.

“Fuck. That was hot,” Oscar says. He sounds sincere. Domhnall peeks out from behind his arm to see Oscar let go of his cock and resume stroking his own, using Domhnall’s come to slick things up a bit. “Really fucking hot.” He leans forward, hovering over Domhnall, one hand planted next to Domhnall’s head, the other dragging through the come on Domhnall’s stomach as he strokes himself to completion. It’s only a minute or so before his come is joining the mess and he collapses on top of Domhnall. 

Oscar’s face is buried in Domhnall’s neck, and Domhnall is trailing his fingers down Oscar’s back. It’s nice. Oscar’s weight is somehow not suffocating, and he’s just the right kind of warm. He feels himself starting to drift off when a random thought crosses his mind. “I wonder if the taco place delivers.”

“If I could move, I would smother you with a pillow,” Oscar mumbles. “Go to sleep.”

Domhnall does.

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a drabble prompt thing that went around tumblr back in early August. Sunschein prompted me with Domnhall/Oscar "We're out of money?!?" ... which I didn't actually use. But used the idea? And obviously it's not a fucking drabble, but I figure since there's something resembling fucking that it's okay. ;) 
> 
> Thank you to Rex for her usual wonderful feedback and suggestions. Thank you to Linda3m for cheerleading/encouragement. 
> 
> Some visual inspiration - [here](http://boymercuryx.tumblr.com/post/148642511473/austin-fucks-a-virgin-fan) and  
> [here](http://boymercuryx.tumblr.com/post/148933378028/austin-fucks-a-virgin-fan). Both links are NSFW. Safe-for-work inspiration [here](http://wyomingnot.tumblr.com/post/150166881778/gabrinth-liamquane-what-was-the-most-difficult).


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